


Moving on Instinct

by Batshit_Bogs



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU
Genre: Blood and Injury, Grief/Mourning, Hurt No Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Mostly hurt, an appropriate tag for this fic, but theres a dash of comfort, im so sorry Dami ily i swear, it was sitting in my drafts and I needed to feel productive so here it is, its all hurt who am i kidding, no beta we die like robins, this is just pure feel badness, this is sad. that's it., wait okay i said hurt no comfort, what the fuck is wrong with me hours
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-12
Updated: 2020-11-12
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:15:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27526735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Batshit_Bogs/pseuds/Batshit_Bogs
Summary: There.A glint in the upper windows of the building across the street.No one notices. Not Drake, standing at the podium, or Richard, watching from the crowd. No one notices, except one.-Damian refuses to lose another brother.
Relationships: Tim Drake & Dick Grayson & Damian Wayne
Comments: 51
Kudos: 193





	Moving on Instinct

**Author's Note:**

> I have nothing to say for myself. This is pure agony for everyone involved. Why did I write this.
> 
> **CWs**  
>  _\- major character death_  
>  _\- lots of blood_  
>  _\- mild swearing_

_ There. _

A glint in the upper windows of the building across the street. 

No one notices. Not Drake, standing at the podium, or Richard, watching from the crowd. No one notices, except one.

Damian is moving before he realizes it. He pushes through the crowd and vaults onto the stage without thinking. All he knows is that Drake is about to die, he’s right in the line of fire and  _ Drake can’t die _ .

He shoves Drake out of the way right as the sniper shoots, and a pinpoint pressure strikes between Damian’s ribs and right under his sternum. The power behind the shot slams him flat on his back and steals his breath.

Noise explodes around him as the crowd scatters, people screaming and crying and running, but the sound is muffled as if through water. 

For a blissful moment, Damian feels nothing.

Then pain spreads in his chest, followed by a burst of white hot agony so intense that he gasps in a desperate breath and  _ chokes.  _ His lungs feel like they’re not working properly. The copper tang in his mouth is all he can taste.

“Damian!” 

A voice, high with fear and familiar, cuts through the noise. Damian can’t puzzle out who shouted around the searing pain in his body. It’s so much worse than with the Heretic. So. Much. Worse. At least then it was over in a couple seconds - a moment of hurt and then nothing. But now..it’s so intense that he’s having a hard time thinking.

Damian blinks and hands are on him. They press down on his chest, drawing out a thin wail of agony from his bloodied lips. Whoever’s pressing down, they’re hurting him. He wants the pressure to stop, and he can’t  _ speak - _

“Call an ambulance!” Someone screams. It sounded like Richard. Is he here? Please let him be here. All Damian wants his Batman.

“ _ Dick,”  _ that voice from before says desperately. 

Hands brush back Damian’s bangs. “How bad?”

“Bad, I-I didn’t see the sniper, I’m  _ sorry - _ ”

“Hey, it’s okay, it isn’t your fault.” 

It hurts. It hurts it hurts _it_ _hurts -_

“Damian? Dames, please open your eyes for me.”

How can he open his eyes when he can’t even  _ think - _

“C’mon, buddy.” The tone gets harder, taking on an edge that Damian is conditioned to respond to. “Damian. Open your eyes.”

Damian can’t ignore an order like that, now can he? It’s a struggle to lift his eyelids, to the point where - somewhere in his haze of pain - he knows it’s a bad sign. A startlingly blue sky swims into focus, along with a familiar face.

Richard is leaning over him with wide, panicked blue eyes. He looks  _ terrified.  _ Almost as much as Damian is.

Richard offers a weak smile. “There you are. Just hang in there, Dami, help is coming soon.”

Help? Why...oh, right. Damian was just shot, he almost forgot where the pain is coming from. At least he saved Drake, right? Did he save his brother?

“Dr -” he tries to say, but he runs out of breath halfway through. 

“Shh, don’t try to talk,” Richard says. 

Damian shakes his head. He needs to make sure that this wasn’t for nothing. 

“Dr.. _ ake, _ ” he forces out, and a thin trickle of warm blood spills from the corner of his mouth as he does. He fumbles for...he doesn’t know, but Richard takes his hand and squeezes. “W-where-?”

Richard glances away for a second with an oddly pinched expression. “He’s right here.”

Damian doesn’t believe him. He needs to see Drake for himself. He reaches out with his free hand, and his fingertips brush against rough jeans.

“I’m here, Damian.”

_ Drake.  _ That’s Drake’s voice. 

Damian tries to sit up to see him properly, since the blob at the edge of his vision isn’t enough, but Richard gently holds his shoulders down.

“N-no,” Damian chokes on another rattling inhale, “Let...let me s-see -”

Richard presses his lips into a thin line. “Okay. Yeah, okay, hold on a sec.”

Blinding pain sears through Damian again and he cries out as his upper body is shifted. It’s a gentle movement, and Richard murmurs apologies as it happens, but for a moment Damian’s senses white out. 

When his vision clears again, he realizes he can see Drake. Alive. There’s no blood on him except for the crimson coating his hands, which are pressed to Damian’s chest. Did Damian miss something? Did he fail and - oh. It’s  _ his  _ blood. 

“Drake,” Damian breathes, letting himself relax ever so slightly.

Drake doesn’t smile at him. He just lets their gazes meet for a brief second before focusing on the wound he’s trying to staunch. 

“See? Right here,” Richard says. One of his hands is in Damian’s hair, carding through it in soothing motions. It’s...nice. It makes it feel like the pain has lessened. His other hand is cupping Damian’s face, the thumb brushing across his cheekbone. 

Damian is almost comfortable laying here half in Richard’s lap with the bright blue sky stretching endlessly above. Gotham never has blue skies. It looks like the desert. 

This is a far cry from the first time he died.

The thought slams into him with such force that he gasps, and  _ that  _ tiny motion sends another wave of burning agony through him. His breaths come in short, wet gasps that rattle his lungs, and his whole body tenses as he rides out the pain. 

Damian is dying.

Not just that, he’s going to  _ die.  _ It’s a crystal-clear understanding that one only has when it’s truly happening. 

The ambulance won’t get here in time, he knows that for certain. Even if it does, he won’t last long. Maybe not even the ride to the hospital.

Part of him wants to shove his brothers away, tell them to leave - he doesn’t want them to see him die.

The other part couldn’t be happier that they’re here. Damian won’t die alone, helpless on a cold floor. He’ll die in Richard’s arms, and there’s nowhere he’d rather it happen.

And this time...this time he can say his last words. Right now pride doesn’t matter, Damian is going to tell them the words he never had the strength to before.

“Thank...thank y-you,” Damian chokes out. Something hot streaks down his cheeks. He’s crying. Why is he crying? He isn’t  _ scared,  _ but...maybe he’s sad. He’s leaving his family again, not only them but the few friends Damian has grown to love as well. He’s abandoning them all to the pain his death will bring. He isn’t a fool, he knows how his death affected his family. But maybe this time he can change that. 

“For what, Dames?” Richard prompts gently. It’s always gently with him. Gentle words, gentle actions. Damian never appreciated his undying kindness enough.

“E-everything.” Damian lets out a tiny sob. Even that hurts. It all hurts. Not for much longer, though, he can feel it. Soon he’ll be back in that soft place, where he could rest and be content again. But for now he needs to say his piece.

“What do you mean...no.” The smile Richard’s kept plastered on his face for Damian’s sake vanishes. “No, no, Damian, don’t talk like that. You’re gonna be  _ fine.” _

A lie, they both know it.

Damian finds the fabric of Drake’s jeans again (only he would wear such a thing to a speech) and tries his best to tug on it.

“Dr...Drake,” Damian says, but his brother cuts him off.

“Don’t want to hear it,” Drake snaps. He briefly squeezes his eyes shut. “ _ Damn it,  _ brat, why’d you have to do that?”

“You would...would’ve...died.” Damian tugs harder and sobs again. “Y’re my br-brother. Can’t - let you -”

“You shouldn’t have -  _ fuck. _ ” Drake shakes his head. “I know you’d have done that for Dick, or, hell, even Jason, but me? Why?”

“Never...I never h-hated you,” Damian wheezes. He fixes Drake with the most sincere look he can muster. “M’ sorry.” Another sob. “For..for…”

Drake shakes his head again and grits his teeth against the silent tears that streak down his face. “Damian, don’t.  _ Please. _ ”

Fine. That’s fine. Damian knows that Drake -  _ Timothy.  _ He knows that Timothy hates him, but Damian needed him to know he isn’t hated back. All of that misplaced aggression was just that. Misplaced, and terribly so.

It’s getting harder to breathe. Damian can’t feel most of his body, and the pain is dull.

He gazes up at Richard and almost flinches at the fierce expression he sees. Richard must notice because he smoothes his features out. Damian searches blindly for his brother’s hand, and Richard removes his hand from Damian’s hair to interlock their fingers and squeeze. Damian wishes he could squeeze back. 

“Don’t,” Richard pleads, and it’s a near silent word. “The ambulance will be here soon, just...wait until after, okay?”

Damian has never been one to listen, though. It’s a Robin’s job to ignore Batman, after all. He takes a moment to gather his words and to ride out another wave of pain. 

When he tries to speak, only a wet, strangled sound comes out. A fresh gush of blood pools in his mouth with it.

_ No. Not yet. Not. Yet. _

Damian has fought every day of his life, he can fight for a couple more minutes.

A memory comes to him, one that he’s turned over and over in his mind since it happened. It was when he was sitting on that roof with Richard, daring to converse about what might have been.

Damian coughs blood from his airways and tries again. “I would..’ve...said yes,” he sobs. 

Richard frowns, not getting it.

“When...when…” It’s getting harder to form words. Damian tries a different approach, and as he speaks a fleeting smile crosses his lips. “You’d have made...a g-great...great dad.”

Understanding blooms in Richard’s eyes and he finally crumples. He leans down and presses their foreheads together, trembling as his breath hitches.

“I l-love you,” Damian says as clearly as he can. He feels Timothy take his other hand.

“I love you too,” Richard sobs, “s-so much, Dami. You mean  _ everything  _ to me.”

Damian smiles through the anguish. “We...we were the best.”

Richard presses a kiss to his forehead and nods. Laughs wetly. “Yeah. The best.”

“Ask...ask Pennyworth to look after…” Damian pauses to breathe, “after my p-pets.”

“Of course,” Timothy says. He’s crying now, too, and his free hand is on the wound, but he’s not applying any pressure. He knows. 

“Tell B-Brown and Todd to stay...stay away from my room.” They always messed with his paints when they went in there.

Timothy lets out a sad laugh. “No problem.”

Richard is crying too hard to speak.

Damian’s smile slips as he thinks of all the people he isn’t able to say goodbye to, much less mention. He thinks of Father, who tried so hard to bring him back the first time.

“Father, tell him…” Damian stops for a moment to force his eyelids back open. It’s getting difficult to stay awake. “Tell him I’m s-sorry. B...but don’t...don’t let him bring me b-back.”

“What?” Timothy says in a small voice. Richard squeezes his hand tighter.

“Let...let me rest,” Damian continues. “ _ Please.  _ No more ch...chances, Timothy.”

It might’ve been the request, or the usage of his first name, but Timothy’s composure crumbles. He clasps Damian’s hand in both of his blood-slicked ones and doubles over them, shaking from the force of his sobs. 

Perhaps he doesn’t hate Damian after all.

“We’re gonna miss you, buddy,” Richard murmurs. “More than you know.

Damian nods. He knows, and he loves them for it.

“You’ll be...okay,” he says. His voice is barely there. The pain is gone, and somehow, it doesn’t bother him. 

The three of them sit there for a moment, and Damian drinks it in. His hands grasped in theirs, his head pillowed on Richard’s lap. The safe bubble they’ve carved out in a world of hurt.

Is it okay to leave yet? Damian thinks he’s said all that he needs to, but he still isn’t sure if he can go.

Richard picks up on it - he always does. He musters a smile and kisses Damian’s forehead again.

“It’s okay, Dames,” he says, and his voice is so unbearably soft. “It’s okay. You don’t have to fight anymore. We’ve got you.”

And that...that’s enough.

Damian sighs and relaxes into his brother’s - his Batman’s - his  _ dad’s  _ hold. He’s been fighting for so long, and now, he can finally rest. 

He feels warm, safe.

_ Loved. _

This is enough.

**Author's Note:**

> Lemme know if I made you cry. I certainly did lol I'm so fucking sorry for writing this
> 
> Feel free to beat me with a rake over @ [Batshit-Birds](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/batshit-birds) on Tumblr


End file.
